


Tethered Together Bonded and Broken

by Salt00



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Abandonment, Actually somewhat soft between nightmares, Angst, Body Horror, Eldritch, Everyone Needs A Hug, Gen, Horror, Human Experimentation, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mind Meld, Mutilation, Nightmares, Non-Consensual Touching, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, Tentacles, Torture, Trust Issues, Whump, Whumptober 2020, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:07:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27093280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt00/pseuds/Salt00
Summary: Trapped together in the dark, the Golden Deer stumble across something better left asleep. Connected by an alien entity, they are forced to feed this fallen beast with their worst nightmares, playing out before them all. Claude struggles to free himself before his own nightmares are exposed to everyone.
Relationships: Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 33
Kudos: 95





	Tethered Together Bonded and Broken

**Author's Note:**

> What do you mean Cyril isn't a canon Golden Deer? Sounds fake.
> 
> Whumptober! Am I doing this right? Prompts? Whomst? Nope, just one fic for the month. Had this idea a few days ago and if I didn't force myself to finish it within soon it'd never see the light of day. So. Whumptober!

“That went better than it could have.”

“Excuse me?” Lorenz’s shrill voice called out. “This is all your fault Claude! Enlighten me as to _how_ that mess could have gone worse! Chased into a cave only to stumble and fall into this — this pit!”

“I didn’t say it went _well._ But hey, at least we aren’t dead!”

“Yet,” Lysithea muttered.

“Is anyone hurt?” Ignatz asked. “That was no short tumble.”

“My back’s all bruised!” Hilda whined.

Leonie cleared her throat. “Any _serious_ injuries? I’m good, somehow.”

Claude felt down at the soft loamy floor of the cave. “We got seriously lucky. If this was hard rock, most of us would be dead. Speaking of, are we all here?”

The Golden Deer all chimed up. Remarkably no one was injured aside from some scrapes and bruises. It was something of a miracle, or perhaps fate, that no one died from their fall. Everyone was present, except for Teach.

“It’s good that they didn’t fall,” Cyril said. “This way they can find help!”

“Unless they got caught up in the cave collapse,” Lysithea pointed out. 

“Teach won’t be stopped by some random cave-in. I’m sure they’re still up there. In the meantime, it’s up to us to find an escape.” He started feeling around for a wall, bumping into Raphael. “Anyone got any light?”

Awkward silence. 

“Torches? Seriously, none of us has a torch? That’s just poor planning. Marianne, Lysithea, can either of you cast a spell?”

“I-I’m sorry… M-my reserves are drained from the fight…”

“None of my spells make any light,” Lysithea grumbled. 

“In that case, everyone be careful,” Leonie warned. “Who knows if there’s another pit just waiting for us to blindly fall down.”

“I found a wall!” Raphael shouted. 

Claude fumbled over to Raphael’s voice. He planted a hand on the wall, and sure enough, it was very wall-like. _Too_ wall-like for a natural cave. It was smooth and straight. _Man-made._ He followed the wall, eventually coming to a corner. “We’re in a room! Everyone, try searching for a door.”

“A room without a ceiling?” Ignatz murmured. “The ground feels natural…”

After a handful of minutes, they determined the rough perimeter of the pit. It wasn’t much bigger than their classroom. Unfortunately no door was discovered. Worse, the walls were very smooth. There was no way they would be able to climb them.

“Great! So this is a pit trap, or something!” Leonie shouted.

Who would build a random pit trap at the end of a random cave in the backwater nowhere of Ordelia territory? “Has anyone found any rocks or bones on the ground?”

“Bones?!”

“Think about it — this spot was made for a reason. Pits are typically made to throw stuff into, be it trash or people. Typically built so that they can’t get _out_ either. I don’t think this is a new pit, so if it was used to get rid of people, where are the bones? Or garbage?”

This sparked panicked murmurings. Either this space wasn’t used for anything… 

His eyes widened. _Or something got rid of the bones._ “Everyone, quiet!” he hissed. “We aren’t alone.”

The chatter stopped dead. In the silence, a low rumble could be heard. The rumble grew. Hand placed on the ground, he felt a tremor pass through the pit. He could feel the rumbling more than he could hear it. But it was getting louder.

A sliver of crimson light breached the earth. He stumbled backwards as it rose further and further in height. He knew that shade of crimson. It was the same demonic red that once consumed Miklan. It was the same bloody red that the relics glowed.

The u-shaped crescent of red pulsed. The sliver grew thicker, waxing like the phases of the moon. The light swelled into a massive orb above them. The rumbling grew louder as more slivers appeared. Spiderweb lines pulsed to life, beating red and fading and beating red and fading like veins of blood in time with a heartbeat. In the dim red glow, the shape of an indistinct beast was outlined by those veins. In the center of its head sat that great red orb, countless rings like the inside of a tree circled around a black void pinprick. _An eye._

Haphazardly inlaid in the rest of the beast’s ‘head’ were dozens and dozens of smaller crimson slivers. All at once those slivers expanded just like the first. A hundred eyes all snapped awake. As one, each eye acted in sync with each other. The small pinprick of black in the center of each glowing red eye swept across the room. 

He didn’t dare move. Barely dared to breathe. Could the thing see in the dark? Could it see them? Could it smell or hear them? 

They were trapped, and they weren’t alone.

A hissing gasp escaped the creature, a faint glowing maw parting. Silhouettes of far too many teeth stood out as a pulsing, slim, forked tongue drifted from the mouth.

**_“W H O…”_ **

Claude slammed his hands over his ears and grit his teeth at the ear splitting noise. It wasn’t that it was loud — though it was — but the unearthly quality. Like nails being driven into his ears, if the nails were sharp worms gnawing into his ear canal. 

**_“D I S T U R B S…?”_ **

His back hit a wall as he struggled to stay upright. Distantly, he heard his classmates crying out.

**“A N S W E R… O R… T H I S… O N E… W I L L… F E A S T…”**

“We mean no harm!” Claude shouted. He slumped against the wall, knees unable to keep him upright. “We’re lost! We will gladly leave you be!”

Whether the monster was satisfied with his answer or not, he didn’t know. The long tongue extended from the maw. It pulsed with red light, growing stronger with every beat. It wasn’t just the tongue that was getting brighter. The eyes too seemed to be glowing more, growing wider and more vivid. _More alert._

Cyril gave a panicked shout as the tongue extended against his cheek, briefly illuminating his terrified expression in dull red. Just as soon as the tongue bumped into the boy, it drifted away. A thick string of saliva trailed behind, still attached to the tongue.

Shouts and groans filled their space as the tongue drifted from person to person. It never lingered, but everywhere it touched it dragged behind it a cord of saliva. Claude didn’t dare to hope in this situation, but there was a chance that the creature was just inspecting them. There was a _chance_ it might leave them alone.

He did his best to avoid the tongue, but despite its slow speed he too was tagged by the warm, dripping appendage. The moment it touched him, it became apparent that the shouts weren’t out of surprise. It was like being tapped with Thoron. His breath left him.

The tongue didn’t linger. Saliva did, however. He reached up to wipe the thick string from his cheek, only to shudder as he touched it. There was more of it than he realized — from the top of his head down to the bottom of his cheek was coated in the warm substance. Touching it felt _weird_ in a concerning way. As his fingers prodded at it, he helplessly shuddered again. He _felt_ it. As if the thick cord of saliva was a _part_ of himself.

He tried one last time to yank the goop away. He pulled. It was _thick,_ not fully a liquid. It didn’t budge from his skin. Worse, it felt like pulling at open nerves. He spasmed both from pain and an electric sensation, grunting as he hit the ground. _Rough tough = bad,_ apparently.

He pulled himself up into a seated position, tracking the tongue (that he could vaguely _feel_ moving about). He flinched at the sea of intense color that assaulted his eyes. The cave was still pitch black, but vivid colors brighter than anything he’d ever seen trailed through the void. It took him a moment to find the pulsing tongue amidst the lights, now lit up in a vibrant cherry red instead of the previous dull crimson. Streamers of all colors trailed off of it. Pinks, oranges, greens, blues — it was like a rainbow formed of pure moonlight.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed brilliant forest green growing in brightness. Shimmering under the stream of green were shining currents of pure gold. He swallowed hard, aware too suddenly of the thundering heartbeat that he heard — _felt_ — that seemed to engulf him. It was far too much to be his own heartbeat, but his heartbeat matched it perfectly. His heartbeat matched the pulsing of the green and gold stream. His heartbeat matched the pulsing of the tongue.

Carefully he trailed fingers against the cord of saliva on his face. Being gentle, it didn’t send him into another spasming fit. But he _felt it._ He _felt_ himself touch it. It pulsed with his heartbeat, the color increasing with every **_thump, thump, thump._** He withdrew his hand, staring at his fingers. His hand too glowed. Looking down, his entire body was lit up in green and gold. He patted himself down, grateful to find he still wore his clothes. But somehow that light wasn’t impeded by fabric at all. 

He brought his hand to the ground, attempting to use the glow as a light source. But it didn’t act like light. Even holding a fistfull of soil didn’t illuminate anything — if it wasn’t for feeling it dirty his hands, he wouldn’t even be able to tell he was holding anything. The glow passed through it. Whatever the glow was, it wasn’t _light._

His classmates were lit up too. He could see their vibrant bodies and the ropes that connected them to the drifting tongue. They were all different colors. He traced a familiar shade of pink to Hilda. He couldn’t see her fully, but her body pulsed in that same pink, shimmering ruby dancing underneath. Everyone tagged by the tongue was a unique color. They hadn’t been glowing before he was tagged by the tongue. No one had been glowing to his eyes before he was tagged. So it was connected to that. It had to be.

Marianne yelped. He watched as her cord slowly beat to life. First the spot on her cheek lit up in pale blue and soft blooming grey. The glow traveled down the cord and to the tongue. From her cheek it spread into her body, jittering further with every **_thump, thump, thump._ **

The tongue, now that everyone was tagged, retreated back into the beast’s maw. It closed its mouth around the nine colorful ropes of saliva. 

**_“Who… are… you…”_ **

The ‘words’ echoed through his skull, no longer painful but still overpowering. No longer did the creature rumble through the cave. Now it rumbled inside him. 

“We’re just students!” Hilda pleaded. “We’re harmless!”

**_“Hmmm…”_** the beast hummed through his bones. **_“This One… has slumbered… so long… This One… hungers…”_**

“We aren’t so tasty to eat!” Claude leapt to say. “However, if you free us, we can deliver plenty of fresh caught game for you. Much more meat than if you eat us.”

Guttural kakking filled his brain, something that sounded nothing like laughter but certainly was. **_“Such delicious… fear… More… This One… desires more… So long… it has been… so long… human fear… so delicious…”_ **

The eyes all flared. As one they darted from person to person. The eyes froze. They froze pinpointed on the huddled form shimmering lime green with undertones of lapis blue. _Ignatz._

The red eyes flared, crisp neon blue circling the iris. Claude heard Ignatz gasp, then he _felt it, he felt—_

He blinked. Frowned. Shook his head, turning back to his easel. He grimaced at the painting. It wasn’t coming together, no matter how long he spent on it. Glancing between it and the familiar setting of the monastery, he couldn’t capture anything.

“Ignatz? Is that you?”

He grimaced, hunching his shoulders. He clutched his brush tighter. Maybe if he didn’t turn around… 

A rough hand slapped his shoulder. “It is you! Look at that, painting again?”

He nodded. “Hello, Raphael. I am. It’s… just a hobby.”

“Hah! You say that every time. Thought you came to the academy to become a knight, not an artist.” His voice lowered from the usual boisterous tone down to his serious one. “Hey… isn’t this a waste of your parent’s money?”

He flinched. “N-no! I’m still training to be a knight!”

Raphael looked at him with a confused frown. “But… I never see you train. You’re always painting the day away. I’m just trying to look out for ya here. Don’t you think it’s time you put your brush away? Don’t get me wrong, I like your drawings, but you can’t save someone’s life with a paintbrush.”

His eyes fell down to his painting. He’d spent all day on it, and it looked awful. “You aren’t wrong…” He set the brush down.

“Here, allow me!” Raphael snatched the brush and snapped it in half.

“Ah! What’d you do that for?!”

“Just helpin’ ya out!” Raphael slapped him hard on the back, sending him flailing onto the ground. “Whoops! See, this is why you gotta train more! You’re a total weakling!”

“I… guess I am.”

“Anyways, I’m off to dinner. See you around!”

“Y… yeah.” He sighed, rubbing at his stinging palms. He glanced forlorn at the snapped halves of his brush.

He slunk off to get dinner for himself. 

“Tell me about it!” Raphael’s voice echoed over to him. He froze, pressing himself against the wall. “That Ignatz is a piece of work.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Leonie said. “It’s like he doesn’t care at all! I had to _bleed_ to get here, and he’s just wasting his life away with those doodles!”

Hilda laughed. “Oh, I think they’re hilarious! I walked in on him the other day, and his painting was _so_ bad. Like, I could’ve done better as a toddler! But he looked so proud! Honestly I feel bad for him.”

“He’s always been like that,” Raphael said, no mirth in his voice, “ever since we were kids. I tell him they’re good ‘cause I pity him, but they’re trash.”

“An affront to the eye,” Lorenz sneered. “Hmph. Some of his ‘paintings’ make me nauseous to look at! But as you said, lying to him is easier.”

“It’s the best way to handle a fool like Ignatz,” Raphael continued. “Lie to him. I keep telling him it’s not his fault my parents died, but that’s a huge lie! It’s all his fault, but I’m not about to say that to his face.”

Lysithea scoffed. “He’s such a dead weight. Why is he even here?”

“Good question,” he whispered to himself. He decided not to get dinner. He wasn’t hungry anymore. 

He shut his door behind him, slumping to the floor. He should have known everyone was lying to him. Raphael especially. No one could be as forgiving as Raphael acted. He hung his head, trying to stem back tears.

His art wasn’t… _that_ bad… was it?

He pulled out one of his more recent pieces. He was proud of it, privately. It was of Saint Cethleanne, and he worked really hard on— 

He dropped the painting, flinching back. It was _awful._ He pulled out another piece and gasped. He pulled out everything he had. It was all awful. How did he not notice? He knew he wasn’t an _amazing_ artist, but didn’t know he was _bad!_

…Why did no one tell him he was bad…?

What else weren’t they telling him…?

He shuddered. His room was replaced with darkness. His heart was trying to beat out of his chest. Someone was crying. He raised his palm to wipe at his eyes, shocked to find them dry. _He_ wasn’t crying. What— 

“Ignatz…?” Raphael quietly whispered, voice shaking.

“Huh?” Multiple voices replied, himself included.

The bulky twisting glow of yellow and orange stood and stumbled towards the hunched form of lime and lapis. Raphael stumbled over to Ignatz.

_Ignatz._

“Oh hell,” Claude choked out. 

“It’s not true,” Raphael murmured, wrapping around Ignatz. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Your art’s amazing, it’s not bad. And I _don’t_ blame you for what happened. You know me, I’m so bad at lying.”

“R-Raph?” Ignatz sniffled out. “Y-you…”

“I’m here for you. I’m not your friend out of pity or some nonsense.”

“W-what happened?” Hilda’s voice croaked out. “D-did anyone else feel like…?”

“What did that thing do to us?!” Leonie shouted. “Dear Goddess, I thought I was Ignatz!”

“What?” Ignatz gasped.

“We all did, it seems,” Claude said. “These glowing cords, they’re connecting us. But what _was_ that?”

**_“Nightmare… very good…”_ ** that _thing_ mumbled in his head. **_“From least… to most… Save best… for last…”_ ** More _kakking_ laughs echoed. **_“So hungry… Give me… delicious fear… give me… despair…”_ **

Those red eyes darted around again. Claude tried to brace himself, to remember himself, to— 

Crimson froze on pink and ruby. Red eyes flared blue, and Claude— 

—was hard at work. She spent a lot of time on this project, and she was determined to do it right. It needed to be perfect for her big brother.

“Hilda!” father called. “Holst is back!”

“Ah!” She nearly snapped it in half. “H-hold on, I’m not finished!” _Almost_ done. Almost there. 

“Knock knock. How’s my favorite little sister doing?”

“Done! Come in, Holst!” She beamed at him, hiding her project behind her back. She’d been working on it nonstop since he last left. 

Holst bent down to pat her head. “I can’t stay for too long, sorry Hilda.”

Her eyes flew wide. “What?! But you promised you would!” _You always stay for me…_

For a split second, he wasn’t grinning. He was grimacing. He was _annoyed. At her…?_ But then he was all smiles again. “You know me, I’m very busy. But father said you wanted to see me. So I made time, _just for you.”_

She bit her lip. Usually he sounded much more excited to see her. Now he made her feel like a burden. “I, um… I made something for you.”

“Again?”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” He chuckled. “Is it another accessory?”

“Well, yeah! Duh! It’ll pair perfectly with the last one I made… you…” She looked up at where her old hair clip for him should be. “Where’s the last one I gave you?”

“Oh, um. Aha, funny story. See, an Almyran snuck into my tent and… stole it! Right out from under my pillow!”

“You lost it,” she flatly said.

He gave her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry?”

She kicked at the leg of her desk. “Well, it’s okay! Because I have a new one for you! I worked really, _really_ hard on it!”

Again, for just a second, he looked annoyed. But it didn’t last. “Let’s see this masterpiece of yours.”

“Here!” She flourished it, plopping into his hands. “Custom made by me, just for you!”

She kept her eyes on his face, waiting to see how much he liked it. But he didn’t like it. His face scrunched up in disgust. A moment later it smoothed out into passible joy. “Aww, for me? Thanks!”

“You don’t like it…?” But… she worked so hard on it… 

“Of course I love it! Here, I’ll put it on right now!” He fumbled to clip it into his hair. 

She stared at her creation. Her creation that she spent night after night sleeplessly laboring over. Her creation that she poured her whole heart into.

“Thanks so much, lil’ sis! Now your big brother needs to head out and defend Fódlan from the Almyran menace! I’ll see you later.”

“Y…yeah. Um, bye, love” — the door slammed behind him — “you.”

She slumped onto her bed, sniffling. _Stupid!_ She was so stupid! Her little hairclip looked so dumb! This was why she didn’t work hard on things! She clutched her pillow and cried. She just wanted to make something nice for Holst. He always lost her hair clips. For the first time, she wasn’t so sure that he ‘lost’ them at all. He probably threw them away.

There was a knock on her door. “Holst?!” She scrubbed her face with her pillow, hoping her eyes weren’t puffy.

“Afraid not.”

“O-oh. Come in, father.”

Father let himself in, uncharacteristically grave. “I just received some news from the front. About Holst.”

She kicked at her bedpost. “What battle did he win this time?” It was always about Holst. _Holst Holst Holst._ She was invisible next to him. 

“He lost. He’s dead.”

It took a moment for the words to register. “Ehe… heh… you’re joking. Holst is unbeatable.”

Father shook his head. “He’s dead. Reports say that Almyran archers took notice of something shining in his hair. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

“N-no…” _Her hair clip?_ No. Holst couldn’t be dead. Her hair clip was a bit gaudy, but surely… 

“Holst is dead. That means you need to fill his shoes.” Father dropped an axe in her lap. “Now get to the front lines. The Almyrans are invading.”

“Huh?! I, I can’t! I’m not Holst, I’m no good at fighting!”

“It’s either you or all of Fódlan falls to the Almyran menace.” 

She threw the axe on the ground. “Shut up! Holst can’t be dead!”

But he was. She stood in front of his corpse. An arrow pierced his skull, her stupid tacky trinket perfectly ringing around the arrow. Holst was dead.

“What do we do, General Goneril?” a soldier asked her.

“Me? I don’t know!” She didn’t know anything about leading! That was Holst’s job! If _he_ failed, what hope did she have?

“The Almyrans are coming. General Goneril, what are your orders?” Panic was everywhere. “If you don’t give the right orders, we’ll all die. All of Fódlan will die. It’s all up to you.”

“No!” she shouted. “I don’t know anything! I can’t!” She couldn’t be responsible for everyone!

“The Almyrans are here!” someone shouted.

She looked over the battlement and screamed. An endless horde of Almyrans were pouring towards the Locket.

“General Goneril! We need orders!”

A flurry of arrows rained down, killing man after man. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t save anyone. She couldn’t—

“No! No, no, no, please, I can’t…!”

He tugged at his hair, his eyes squeezed shut. There had to be some sort of solution. The Almyran menace— 

The… Almyrans…?

Claude opened his eyes to darkness and neon luminance. Hilda was panicking and babbling to herself. 

“Holst isn’t dead,” he stated, trying to center himself in the dark and bright reality. These ‘nightmares’ were jarring. “Almyra isn’t invading. You aren’t in charge. And your accessories are all very cute.”

Hilda curled in on herself, wheezing. “It wasn’t real?”

“Don’t worry, the only Almyran here is me.” Cyril’s voice shook.

“Everyone saw that…” Hilda gasped.

_Oh no._ Hilda was right. So far, both Ignatz and Hilda’s nightmare showed plenty of their inner thoughts. If that creature got to _Claude,_ what secrets would he be forced to spill?

He gripped the green and gold cord on his head. It was impossible to get a grip on the gluey substance, as it was technically a liquid. His fingers sunk slightly into it. He squirmed at the feeling. He tried to pull, to get a grip, anything to get that thing off of him. All he succeeded in was writhing on the ground as he yanked at what felt like the inside of a wound.

“This cannot be allowed,” father reiterated, pacing. “He has stolen your birthright. The others are flocking to the self-absorbed brat.” Father paused, turning to him. “Why have you done nothing to stop him?”

He flinched, but did not shrink away. He maintained eye contact despite wishing to look anywhere else. “He is difficult. His suspicion is undeniable, but he is as slippery as a snake.”

“Nearly a year, and you have learned _nothing_ of use?” Father sneered. “Perhaps this is for the best. You continue to be a worthless heir.”

“Father?!”

“You heard me, boy. Now prove yourself before you prove me right.” Father pushed him towards a closed door. “Oswald the old is dead. Stop the Riegan brat before he brings ruin to all of Leicester.”

He swallowed hard. Duke Riegan was dead? That would mean…

He stepped into the room. Claude’s laughter grated his ears before he even saw the buffoon. Claude didn’t even bother to change out of his school uniform! With his feet kicked up on the table and chair tipped back, he looked like he was wasting the day away back at the academy, not the _acting head_ of the roundtable!

“Hey Lorenz,” Claude twiddled a lackadaisical wave, “welcome to the table that is round.”

“Claude—”

“Ah-ah! Nope, _Duke Riegan_ now. Chop chop, take a seat. We’ve got, uh, stuff to do. Politics. Or whatever.”

He balled his fists at his side. “You are making a mockery of your position!” Claude knew nothing of respect! This was _important,_ he could _not_ continue his jester games!

Margrave Edmund cleared his throat. “Young Gloucester, do not speak to Duke Riegan as such. Do not forget your place.”

His cheeks reddened. Claude _was_ a higher rank than him now, true, but the fool was wholly undeserving of it! Gritting his teeth, he bowed his head no further than he was socially required. “My apologies.” A detail caught his eye: There were only four chairs (Claude’s by far the most gaudy) and all four were filled. “It appears there has been an error. I have nowhere to sit.”

“Oh, no error!” Claude chirped, his scheming eyes curling with arrogance. “You get to sit on the floor. It’s only fair, not like you’re a Count yet. You aren’t important.”

It was only years of training that kept his jaw from hanging open like a simpleton. _The impudence!_ But he held his tongue. He was a _Gloucester._ He behaved with _decorum._ He refused to stoop to Claude’s level.

“Sit down already, kid,” Lord Goneril said, rolling his eyes. “Get out of the room if you can’t handle it.”

_Kid?! How dare he!_ “I most certainly can handle this! And I will _stand,_ thank you, _Your Grace.”_

“Whatever. Cool, now how do I start this meeting? Uh, ‘Meeting, start!’ How was that?”

All three of the other heads nodded. “Excellent, Duke Riegan. What topic shall we speak of today?”

Claude tapped his chin. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking about feasts a lot.”

To his horror, the other three heads did _nothing_ as Claude began on a tangent about making a twice-weekly ‘Feast Day’ that would surely drain Leicester’s coffers all for nothing!

“All in favor?”

He was the only one to oppose. He was overruled. 

Claude was behaving like a greedy king. _No,_ like a spoiled child! How could the others not see? It should be _him_ in Claude’s place at the head of the roundtable. _He_ would be advocating for the people! _He_ would ensure the duty of the nobility was fulfilled! 

“Got something to add, Lorenz?” Claude drawled, smirking at him.

He held back his temper. It was clear he had no allies in the room. “Indeed I do. How do you plan to fund this ‘Feast Day’ of yours?”

Claude shrugged. “I dunno. Taxes? Is that a thing? I’ll just tax something. Uh, how about grain? I’ll put a… hm, 35% tax on grain? Yeah, that.”

“Th…thirty-five.” Now his jaw did hang open. “Claude, a thirt—”

“Duke Riegan. Not Claude.”

_Inhale. Exhale._ “ _Duke_ Riegan. Typical grain taxes are 1-2%. And that is only on imported grain, as local grain should be—”

“Yawn. Moving on! What else is leader-y of me? Hey, I’m not the only one that dislikes the church, right? Let’s stop doing that. I say we burn all the local churches down. Fuck the Goddess, amirite? Who needs her!”

Claude’s heresy could be jaw-dropping, yes, but he’d never been so brazen about it before! Worse, no one stopped him! “Local churches offer services for the weak and poor. They offer lessons for young and provide a vital place of worship! You cannot” — _no, Claude could —_ “rip away so many people’s reliance on the Goddess. You at _least_ must replace the churches!”

“Nope, don’t wanna. Who else likes mushrooms? I think we should replace Leicester’s famous honey apiaries with mushroom farms. Mushrooms are neat!”

He was helpless as Claude proposed disastrous idea after disastrous idea. 

“Why…” he choked out, trembling, “why are you all agreeing with him…?”

Claude rolled his eyes. “It’s a _scheme,_ Lorenz. A little bit of blackmail, a little bit of poison, and some wealthy promises…” he winked, “and just look at me now! All it took was a little push to my grandfather and uncle. Hey, everyone, what'dya say we crown me as king of Leicester? We can fund my coronation by defunding the wall at Fódlan’s Throat! Not like we need that thing.”

Agreements washed around the table, and Lorenz saw red.

“King?! You can’t _do_ this! You’re destroying everything the alliance stands for! The commoners will _starve!_ The Almyrans will invade!”

“So? Why do I care?” He laughed uproariously. “Nothing you can do about it! Aha! I know! Lorenz, I’m bringing the Gloucester territory under Riegan rule. Right everyone?”

“Here here!”

“No… this, you cannot do this!” 

“What’cha gonna do about it? Hm… lead a revolt? Good luck beating 4/5th of the alliance.”

“Enough! Think of the people! You’re smarter than this!” He was down to pleading, but if pleading could get through to Claude how ruinous it would all be, he would plead.

Claude just laughed. Claude laughed and laughed and laughed.

He saw red. He flung himself across the table, a shout punching from his chest. “You illegitimate bastard! I won’t let you ruin my people! I won’t let—ghk.”

Chains wrapped around his neck, choking him. Claude tutted, wagging his finger. Claude drew the chains tight, dragging him forward. He fell to the floor and Claude planted a boot on his back. “Wow! Treason! That sucks. For you, specifically.”

He screamed out his rage, helpless to act with the chains around his neck, wrists, and ankles. “People will die! You selfish, unjust, horrendous scum of a human! You taint the nobility with your presence! You uncouth, slovenly buffoon! Your whimsical politics will bring ruin to all!”

“Having fun?” Claude oozed with smug amusement. “What to do with you? I could… throw you in jail. Hm. Nah, better idea! I’ll keep you chained up by my side like a dog. You’ll see first-hand how great my policies will be! Now strip. It amuses me when you’re humiliated.”

Claude snapped, and he was naked. He hunched in on himself, but with a sharp jerk of the chains, he was bare for the other nobles to see. The audience room was filled to the brim. Women gasped, men mocked him. Claude laughed.

“Bark for me, Lorenz!”

Tears welled at the corner of his eyes. He tried to stop himself, but he was helpless against Claude’s command. He barked like a mutt.

“Maybe I’ll make you into my maid. Don’t worry Lorenz! We’ll have plenty of fun before I’m through with you…”

“I hate you,” he grit through his teeth, tears of humiliation and pure _hate_ streaming down his cheeks. “You’ve taken everything from me.” 

“Shut up.” He whimpered as Claude stole his ability to speak. “You don’t seem to understand your position. You belong to me now. You don’t have say over anything anymore, not even yourself.” For a moment, Claude was replaced with father. “You’ve never had a say over anything, and you never will, _boy.”_ Father flickered and Claude was back. “I’m going to drain every ounce of amusement out of the people of the Alliance, and when I’m done I’ll throw them away. Just like I’ll do to you.” Those dark eyes glinted. “So you best entertain me if you don’t want to be thrown away.”

Claude loomed above him, leash in hand. It wasn’t just Claude. All of the nobility, father included, loomed. “You don't even get to keep your name,” Claude singsonged. “Nothing but a mutt who _lost.”_

What he wouldn’t do to get back at Claude. _Anything._ That _usurper_ took _everything!_ People would suffer, all because of that loathsome, slimy, horrible… 

… unhonorable, smug, wretched mongrel! To steal everything from him, to humiliate him! He hated Claude, he hated… 

…himself?

“Lorenz, what the hell,” Claude grit through his teeth. “I’d never do any of that!”

“Fuck you Claude,” Leonie grunted.

“Yeah, fuck me, really feeling the self-loathing right now!” That bitter rage lingered from the ‘nightmare’ like it all really happened. “Did you imply that you think _I_ killed my uncle? I didn’t even know the guy! He was still my family though!”

“I want to punch someone _so_ bad,” Hilda whined.

“Not someone,” he grumbled, “you want to punch _me._ Trust me, I do too.”

Lorenz heaved a heated sigh. His purple and rose colored glow stood up and began to pace a tight circle. “I know you wouldn’t go that far, Claude. I… certainly don’t _think_ you would.”

“But you’re afraid he might,” Ignatz finished. “This thing is exploring our worst fears.”

“If I wasn’t pissed at myself, I’d be flattered that you think I’m so capable of swaying people to my side so thoroughly. Seriously, a 35% grain tax?! I don’t have _rocks_ for a brain!”

“Your school work sometimes leaves me with such an impression,” Lorenz muttered. “On an assignment you once proposed removing all bakeries, because ‘grains and baked sweets aren’t healthy enough and thus shouldn’t be consumed!’”

“Because I knew you were spying on me! I was pranking you! I do that all the time!”

_“Claude,”_ Lysithea hissed, “if you ban bakeries I will _personally_ end your regime. And I will make it _painful.”_

“What if I bribe you with an endless supply of sweets, huh? Gonna prop up my disastrous regime then?”

_“No.”_

He waved his hands. “See Lorenz! Clearly you don’t know anything about backroom politics, because it doesn’t work like that! I hate how mad I am.” He pinched his brow. “Why would I replace our honey production with mushrooms? Those don’t even fit the same market. I regret this peek into your mind.”

“If you believe I should hold an _ounce_ of faith in your abilities, you should cease acting like a buffoon all hours of the day!”

“Can we just get another nightmare already? I’m sick of being so pissed of—”

They were swept through more nightmares.

Leonie dreamed of her home village, set alight by fire. She ran from building to building, but no matter what she did she couldn’t save anyone. Her home burned to ash. Her father and mother burned. Every last man, woman, and child burned. The people she grew up with, that raised her — all dead. Because she wasn’t good enough. While she was digging through the choking ash, Jeralt arrived. It was too late though. All he could give was scorn for her failure.

Raphael dreamed of his home. He’d been so excited to see Maya after so long, but he arrived to devastation. His home was ransacked. He found his grandfather, the man having just enough time to tell him that bandits took Maya. He chased after the men, but they always stayed ahead of him. Maya’s screams taunted him. When he finally caught up, he was just in time to watch as they slit Maya’s throat. His little sister was the only family he had left, and she was dead.

Cyril dreamed of Lady Rhea. She needed his protection, and he failed her. He wasn’t good enough, and because of that someone slipped past him and killed her. Lady Rhea trusted him, and he failed her. With the blood of the _one_ person that cared about him — that accepted him — on his hands, he wailed. What was he supposed to do now? He failed her! First his parents died, and now Lady Rhea left him too! He was useless!

Claude choked out a dry sob as Cyril’s nightmare left him feeling helpless in a world that hated him. That much wasn’t too unfamiliar. But it still hurt.

He absently listened to the others try to comfort Cyril. There were only three of them left. Himself, Lysithea, and Marianne. 

“What’s this thing going to do to us when we’ve all had a turn? Are we going to keep experiencing these nightmares forever? Is it going to eat us?”

Claude didn’t have time to contemplate Cyril’s questions as again the world shifted and he— 

“Here you go Marianne!” Hilda tilted her head, raising an eyebrow at her.

She jolted. “O-oh. Sorry…”

“You sure are spacey today!” Hilda laughed, sweet and kind. She wiggled the book in her grasp again. “Are you going to take this from me or not? Just put it on the pile for blue books, like I showed you.”

“R-right.” Hilda was too nice to her. She didn’t deserve Hilda. Still, she found herself smiling. Hilda always managed to make her feel not entirely worthless. Carefully she took the book from Hilda. She received a beaming smile, and then Hilda was back up the ladder searching for a new book to pull down.

She went to sort the book clutched against her chest. Her foot hit a different stack and she tumbled over, spilling a puddle of red books everywhere.

“Mari! Are you okay?”

“I’m okay…” she murmured on the ground, her shoulders slumping. She ruined _another_ pile of sorted books. 

“Don’t worry!” Raphael declared, “we’ll help you out Marianne!”

“Yes,” Ignatz extended a hand to help her up, “it happens to us all. Here, take my hand.”

She bit her lip. “You don’t need to… i-it’s my fault…”

“Nonsense!” Lorenz declared, already picking up fallen books. “It is my duty and delight to help a fair lady such as yourself, dear Marianne.”

Hilda hauled her to her feet. “Don’t worry so much, Mari! Smile more!” Hilda squeezed her in a hug.

She was too afraid to lean into the hug. It was everything she wanted. It wouldn’t last. Not when they found out about her. She opened her mouth to warn Hilda, but the words didn’t want to come. Hilda never took her seriously when she warned her. This time would be no different.

“I’m thinking about holding another tea party later when the library is all finished. What do you think? We can get some more of those yummy pastries!”

“Are you sure you want to spend time with me…?” Hilda had other friends too. Why spend so much time with her? She was awkward and bad at conversations. 

“Of course I’m sure!” 

She didn’t understand Hilda. She didn’t understand any of them. Why didn’t they hate her? She was a burden on everyone. She only broke things. Why didn’t they berate her as she deserved? 

Everyone worked together in harmony. Lorenz directed everyone, Raphael lifted heavy books, Ignatz organized the available space, Leonie carted books from place to place, Lysithea determined the value of each book, Cyril dusted and cleaned. Everyone was happy and everything was good.

Maybe she wasn’t evil for wanting this. Maybe it was okay.

Hilda rubbed her shoulder. “It _is_ okay Mari. You deserve good things.”

She sniffled. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” she whispered. “You’re a good person. I like being your friend. Do you trust me? I’m not lying. If you can’t believe it when _you_ say it, will you believe in me? Will you put your faith in me?”

It was hard for her to accept. She was wretched, horrible, bothersome. But Hilda wasn’t lying. If Hilda thought all those nice things about her… 

… Shouldn’t she at least try? For Hilda?

She nodded. “Okay. I’ll… try. To believe you.”

“That’s all I ask,” Hilda hummed, still hugging her from behind. “I’ll never give up on proving that your life is worth living. You deserve to be here, just like everyone else. I’ll never give up on you Mari, you’re my best friend. I’ll always be here for you, so take your time.” Hilda’s eyes glittered with kindness and understanding. “You’re so important to me, so please don’t hurt yourself again.”

Hilda rested her hand on the scars on her wrist. She stiffened. “You know…?”

Hilda’s smile grew sad. “Yeah. Sorry I don’t know how to help more. But I want you to know I’d be really sad if you died. Devastated. The world wouldn’t be the same without you in it.” Hilda cradled her hands. “I know it’s hard for you, and I know I can’t understand it all. I won’t hate you for your mistakes, because you don’t hate me for mine. So next time you want to hurt yourself… please, I just ask that you talk to me first, okay? Any time. You’ll never be a burden on me.”

“I’m sorry…” she whimpered as tears flowed. “I — I don’t deserve—”

“Shhh…” Hilda knocked heads with her. “It’s okay.”

Hilda allowed her to cling and sob against her. Hilda hummed, and held her, and rocked her through her tears. 

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She blinked through her blurry tears. Everyone else in the library paused their work to stand beside her, smiling so kindly. “It’s okay Marianne. We’re here for you too.”

She nodded, trying to smile through the tears. “Th-thank you all! I, I won’t let you d-down!” 

“No pressure, don’t worry,” Hilda murmured. “We know it’s hard. Let’s start with small steps, okay? We’ll help you.” Hilda pulled her to her feet. “And speaking of small steps… we’ll finish the library, then snack on those pastries!” 

She allowed Hilda to lead her forward by the hand. “I’m… really bad at cleaning…”

Hilda chuckled, but not unkindly. “Oh I know, it’s okay. Here, you can help Lysithea read through these books! That doesn’t involve cleaning, but you're still helping!”

She clenched her fists. “Okay! I’ll do it!” She wanted to help. She wanted to prove Hilda right.

She settled down next to Lysithea and started flipping through the books. Occasionally she was forced to disturb Lysithea and ask a question, but Lysithea was kind and didn’t berate her. 

She made decent progress by the time she got to a book on small animals. She smiled at the cute illustrations. 

“Hilda,” she called out, eager to share what she found. “Um, H-Hilda, I found something!”

“Oh? Come here and show me!” Hilda waved at her, grinning. 

“Yes!” She sprang over to Hilda, eager to make the other girl happy. “Take a look at—ah!” She bumped into Hilda’s ladder, shaking it. She looked up into Hilda’s shocked eyes, her parted lips. She watched as Hilda’s foot slipped, as she flung her arms out to grasp at air. As she fell.

Silence. The library was silent apart from the echoing _thump._ She couldn’t look away from Hilda’s glazed eyes, her confused expression. Her twisted neck.

No. Please no. Not Hilda. Not Hilda. She stepped back. She stepped back. Hilda’s pink eyes, so free of judgment. Hilda’s eyes. 

Her back hit a bookshelf. It creaked and wobbled. She finally pried her eyes away from Hilda to watch as the huge, story-tall bookshelf collapsed forward. Right onto Raphael, Ignatz, Lorenz, Cyril, and Leonie.

There was a crash like thunder. Red seeped out from under the bookshelf. A sound tore from her throat, the sort of sound that came from injured animals. She met the shocked eyes of Lysithea.

Lysithea stumbled to her feet. “We need to move it! Don’t just stand there! They might still be alive!” They weren’t alive, though. They were dead. She killed them.

She could only watch in helpless silence as Lysithea tripped on a pile of books. The books that _she_ so carelessly left out. The pile she’d been so proud of proving she could help. Lysithea shouted, fell, and struck her head on the corner of a table. She didn’t get back up.

Goddess, please. Please no. 

“M… Ma…”

“Hilda!” she shouted, scrambling over to her fallen friend. “Hilda! I’m so sorry, I’m so—”

“Shhh… I… don’t bl…ame y…”

She brought her shaking hands over Hilda’s twisted neck. She could heal Hilda. She could save Hilda. 

The Goddess’ warmth seeped through her fingers. But then her crest boiled in her veins, corrupting her spell. The healing faded. She tried to call upon another spell, but nothing worked. She couldn’t do anything as Hilda’s eyes turned blank. 

She killed everyone. 

No one blamed her for killing the majority of her class. She wanted them to. It was her fault. But no one would blame her. They only gave her kindness. Just like Hilda. Just like the other Golden Deer. 

If they kept being kind to her, they would die too.

“It’s okay, Marianne,” Claude told her, keeping his distance. _Smart._ “It’s not your fault. It’s just bad luck.”

She shook her head back and forth. It _was_ her fault! Her cursed crest was why everyone around her died! 

“It’s your crest, isn’t it.”

She gasped. “W-what? No! I don’t have a crest…”

Claude tutted. “Don’t lie. You have it, don’t you. Maurice’s crest. The Crest of the Beast.”

Her shoulders slumped. Of course Claude would figure her out. “I do.”

“That’s what I thought. You know there’s only one way to break the curse, right?”

She went rigid. “There’s no way. I can never escape it.”

“There’s one way.” Claude gave her a sad smile, pity in his eyes. “Marianne… I’m so sorry. It’s for the good of everyone.” He pulled out a long dagger. “If you're scared… I can do it for you.” She could see in his eyes how much it would hurt him to kill her.

But she was so weak. So weak and selfish. She slumped on her hands and knees, baring her neck to him. “Please… m-make it quick. I’m sorry Claude, I’m so sorry.”

“Of course, Marianne. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it has to be this way.”

She felt the blade on the back of her neck. Her chest hitched. This was good. She would finally go to the Goddess. She was being punished for her curse.

The blade bit down, and the light of her crest engulfed her.

She attacked Claude. Her vision was hazy. She roared, growled, hissed. Claude was terrified. He was screaming. Her claws were inside of him. She bit down over his throat and tore. Warm blood gushed. She brutalized his body. 

She killed Claude.

She screamed, but the blood on her warped claws didn’t vanish. She snatched the dagger off the ground and brought it to her throat. It clanged against thick scales. She tried her stomach. She found unyielding scales. 

**“LeT mE DiE!”** she garbled past too many teeth.

The Goddess refused.

He bit down on his cheek hard enough to bleed.

Marianne sobbed. Hilda stumbled over to her, sobbing, hugging her. Marianne struggled, but Hilda held her tight. “You’re not cursed. You won’t kill us. It’s not true, it’s just a nightmare. It’s not true.”

“It is, it is, it is!” Marianne wailed. 

“My accessories aren’t ugly, and Claude isn’t king, and you won’t kill us. The only true part of that stupid nightmare was what dream-me said. Some stupid ‘curse’ isn’t going to stop me from hanging out with my best friend!”

“Please don’t hug me,” Marianne whispered. “I don’t deserve it.”

“I’ll stop if you really want me to. But if you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re worried about that stupid curse, I’m not going to let go of you!”

“What Hilda said! I’m not gonna let a big bookshelf stop me! Your nightmare wasn’t realistic, ‘cause I could totally lift that! I’ll risk all the bookshelves in the world for you Marianne!”

“Hmph. As if I would die by _tripping._ Have some more confidence in our resilience, Marianne.”

As everyone chimed in their support, Claude rubbed at his throat. Watching himself be brutally murdered — no, _brutally murdering himself —_ was an experience. _Maurice’s Crest. Crest of the Beast._ He tucked that away for ~~if~~ when they got out of this hellhole.

Marianne’s nightmare gave him an idea.

He pulled out the knife he kept hidden on his person. He brought it up to his cheek. He could try and slowly peel the saliva cord off, to ‘shave’ it. But that would probably hurt a lot, and spasming with a blade on his cheek seemed very dumb. He took a deep breath, cradled the cord with his free hand, and swung.

Forget being struck by Thoron — this was a Bolting. His every nerve screamed (and he probably screamed too) as the dagger slipped from his spasming hand. 

He writhed in agony for an unknown period of time. It didn’t end until something warm caressed his cheek. Laughter rumbled through his head as his seizing finally ended. His seizing stopped, but he still squirmed as the warm tongue slopped more saliva onto the spot he tried to cut.

**_“So eager to run… The most delicious… seeks to flee…? All shall have… their turn…”_ **

“That was stupid of you,” Lysithea hissed near his ear. Her lavender and pink swirled above him. His head was on her lap. Purple and rose, orange and yellow — Lorenz and Raphael were on either side of him, holding him down. “You would’ve bashed your head open if the ground was rock, idiot.”

“Haf ta try…” he mumbled, tilting his head to spit a gob of blood. He’d bitten through his tongue. Green and gold spattered on the ground in a gory mess. His hand shook as he felt down the saliva cord. His body jolted when he touched too roughly. It was extra sensitive now. He felt where he cut, finding nothing. If anything, the cord felt thicker. “Now we know. Urgh. Lesson learned.”

“You cut about halfway through,” Lorenz informed him. “The… ‘fluid’ sprayed out like an artery.”

“If… one of you, cut it, all the way…” he mumbled, out of breath.

“No! That might kill you!” Hilda yelled at him. “You were already seizing enough to hurt yourself!”

The creature’s pulsing tongue returned to him. The part of his brain that wasn’t terrified noted that the many cords of light were no longer attached to the tongue, instead remaining in the beast’s maw. Its tongue began licking up and down his green and gold cord. He heaved and squirmed at the invasive feeling. “St…op…!” He didn’t blame Raphael and Lorenz for distancing themselves. Lysithea was braver than he gave her credit for, as she didn’t even flinch with the thing being so close.

It came away from his cord, tickling under his chin, wrapping around to the other side of his cheek. A fat drop of excess saliva dripped down onto his chest. **_“So tempting… but This One… will save… the most delicious… for last…”_ **

“What kind of horrorshow nightmare could _you_ possibly have that’s so bad?” Leonie murmured. “You think it’s exaggerating?”

He fisted into the dirt as the creature continued to slowly lick him. “H…hopefully nothing too… bad. M-maybe _this_ is m-my nightmare. Having my… ngh, my secrets revealed is pretty… terrifyinnnngh!” He had to stop talking and bite his cheek as the thing began _caressing_ his throat. If the thing wanted him afraid, it was doing an excellent job. “A-always have ha-a-ad a mind for, gaaah, w-worst case… s-s-scenarios. _Aah!”_

“Stop touching him,” Lysithea demanded, “or your tongue is next.”

The wiggling tongue halted, though the tip still lapped at his chin. **_“Bold… and brave… and foolish…”_ **

“You’re the fool that brought your tongue so close to a dagger. Now _stop,_ or I’ll cut it off.”

Judging by the laughter in his bones, the beast was more amused than threatened. With one last, long lick, the tongue retreated. “I take back every teasing thing I’ve ever said about you,” he wheezed. He brought a trembling hand up to the goop coating his neck. It was less viscous than the cord attaching him to the beast, and it didn’t even glow. But it was still somewhat sticky and hard to wipe off. He forfeited his golden cape for the cause of cleaning his face.

“I’m holding you to that when we get out of here. Next time you make a knock about my height, I’ll cut off your—”

She came to in a familiar room. She blinked. She knew this room. She knew what this meant. She blinked down at her body. She wore a familiar thin gown. All the scars on her arms were exposed. 

She curled her knees up to her chest. She felt numb. Her body ached fiercely. But that was nothing new. Her body always ached. She was always in pain. She was always tired.

She was so tired.

She eyed the four blank walls of her cell. It was just as she remembered it all those years ago. As if time hadn’t passed at all. As if it had always been inevitable.

They captured her again.

Figures in black robes and bird-like masks silently watched her. They gestured for her to come. Her limbs obeyed without thought. They moved her like a puppet, her feet hardly touching the ground. She was at their mercy. They had no mercy.

There would be no escape. Not this time.

They took her down a familiar hall. She passed her sibling’s old cell. Their ghosts stared at her with white hair and white eyes and pain-distorted expressions.

Their faces were blurred. She couldn’t remember what any of them looked like. They’d been all dead too long. Had it been a decade yet? How old had she been? Four? Five? How long did they keep her? A year? Two? They stole so much time from her. They stole so much life.

She would join her siblings soon, at least. Her time was almost up. She hoped that they didn’t hold her survival against her.

She passed more cells. She saw her parents, both limp and dead. White hair. She saw her classmates. Leonie and Ignatz. Dead, white hair. She hoped they went quick.

She passed more cells. Lorenz, white hair. He ranted and raved at the wall, tearing out bloody chunks of his hair. He would be deemed a failure and put down soon. If he was lucky.

She passed more cells. Raphael, white hair. He screamed. Endlessly. His mangled fists punched at the thick glass of his cell. There was no sanity in his once gentle eyes. It was a recognizable look from her siblings.

She passed more cells. Hilda, white hair. She wept. She vomited blood. She wasn’t long for the world.

She passed more cells. Cyril. She could only assume the beast was Cyril. She hoped his mind died. She didn’t feel much hope.

She passed more cells. Marianne. The beast cowered in the corner, forming guttural sob-like noises. The claws were blood-coated. Marianne met her gaze. The eyes were far too aware. She wondered, between the two of them, who felt more dead? She hoped Marianne’s suffering would end soon. She had so, so little hope.

She passed more cells. A once noble beast was being experimented on. Where once it had only two eyes, now dozens split its face. Now it hungered for things it should not. Now it was unnatural. It hated these Agarthans. It hated them, _hated them, hate—_

She blinked. The cell was empty. Everything resumed.

They brought her to the final room. She could hear muffled screaming. She knew this room. It was the room she hated most. She could only stare at the door in numb resignation. It was the experimentation room.

Inside there was already a body strapped to the table. Claude. White hair. He screamed into a familiar mouthguard. It was the same mouthguard they stuffed in her mouth so long ago. Above him glowed the Crest of Riegan. Above him glowed the Crest of Flames.

They walked her to a chair. She knew what they would do to her. 

Silent tears fell. She wondered if she would survive this. She wondered if she wanted to survive this. 

She’d forgotten about it for years. Until the day she met Claude, she’d forgotten. She remembered it then though. She knew what they wanted to do to her.

_“Look at its vitals. It won’t live more than a decade or two. Both crests took, yes, but this is still a failure. Solon will be disappointed.”_

_“If only we had a specimen from Riegan or Chevalier. The crest’s vitality might stabilize its vitals. The Crest of Flames might as well.”_

_“We cannot waste the Bandit King’s blood on a test project like this.”_

_“Think about the possibilities. Perhaps we could fit three crests into one vessel. Maybe four. With both a vitality crest and the Crest of Flames, we might have another endless bloodbag. Forget the vessel expiring from time, decades would mean nothing to the endless regeneration. Just like the Bandit King.”_

_“Mere theory. We have none of that, and this vessel will die very young. It matters not.”_

She wasn’t sure if she was happy or not that she had a companion in her impending eternal torture. She wasn’t sure she had the capacity to be happy anymore. Poor Claude. Poor her. Poor all of them.

They prepared syringes. For years she’d been racing against her minute lifespan. Struggling to make up for the childhood stripped from her. Struggling to make up for the adulthood withheld from her.

She hoped this would kill her. Her body hurt so much with two crests. She didn’t want to live an eternity with three or maybe more.

But she knew she would survive. There was no escape. The evil creatures made sure she had no escape this time. Not even through death.

He screamed. He wasn’t the only one to scream, the voices of his siblings filling the void around him. 

He caught his breath. Lysithea clutched him and wept.

“W-wasn’t real,” Claude pathetically said, not sure who he was trying to reassure. Plenty of things were going to haunt him from this experience, and his body tied to that bed was definitely one of them. 

A whine rumbled through his bones. **_“Small human… it could be… so much… worse…”_**

He clutched her back. “How much of that was real?” he whispered. 

“Are you dying?” came Cyril’s tiny voice. “That was just part of the nightmare… right?” Bronze and aquamarine shuffled over to join them, clutching Lysithea. 

Claude passed Lysithea off to Raphael, who wrapped her in a big hug. He pushed himself away from the others, needing a moment to process. “Is that possible?” he mutely asked. “The thing those creatures tried to do to us? With my crest?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “At least, so I was told. That memory wasn’t fake. S-so, you better not be c-captured, Claude. For everyone’s s-sake.”

He weakly laughed. “I don’t plan on it. Hey, it’s a good thing Teach is tough. They can’t afford to be captured either.” He swallowed thickly. “Are those people still out there?”

Lysithea nodded.

“Well shit,” Leonie summed up the situation well.

“I… don’t _think_ they’ll want me again. They got all the data they needed from me already. And if they seriously wanted Riegan blood, your grandfather would be a weaker target to kidnap.”

“Not all that reassuring,” he muttered. At least he was used to people being after him. What was one more group?

“You were hurt by them too, weren’t you…” Marianne murmured. Turning to her, he saw she wasn’t talking to any of them. She faced the beast.

**_“Ruined This One… Ruined This One’s family… Ruin all they touch… Wretched Agarthans…”_** Those crimson eyes dimmed ever so slightly.

“You were once human…” Marianne gasped.

**_“No. Never.”_** Rumbling filled the darkness and his body and his head.

_Brilliant skies, freedom and life. Sunlight and spring. Flanked by siblings and family, powerful wings graceful and unbroken. Shimmering scales. Life. Life._

Being earthbound slammed into him. A longing for the open skies lingered. Claude felt pity for the beast. As much as he longed for flight right now, he might someday breathe fresh air again. This beast would not.

“A messenger of the Goddess?” Ignatz gasped. “I’ve seen paintings, but I didn’t think they were real. That’s what you showed us, isn’t it?”

**_“This One was Her child… once… long ago…”_ **

“A sacred beast,” Lorenz gasped.

Guttural laughing buzzed through his mind like wasps. **_“Sacred… no longer…”_** Those horrible red eyes flared again. They darted around, and then fell on him. They all stared down at him.

“You don’t need to do this,” he begged. “You don’t need to give into the urges those creatures put into you. You can fight back.” Anything to avoid his secrets. Anything.

**_“This One hungers… This One… has saved the tastiest… for last…”_ **

Hilda burst into terrified laughter. “Claude, why is it implying your nightmare is going to be worse than Lysithea’s? You weren’t experimented on in your youth, right? Right?”

“Nope. Maybe it’s bluffing.” Or maybe it was the fact that when this was all over, he wouldn’t be comforted by everyone. If Claude was lucky, they wouldn’t attack him immediately. But Lorenz would tell his father whatever he was about to learn. Hilda would probably tell Holst. He lasted a full year in Fódlan. That… actually, that was pretty pathetic. He wondered what his parents would think of his running back home so soon. He didn’t need to wonder. He knew what they would think. “Maybe I’ve just got a really good imagination.” Maybe he was used to imagining every worse-case scenario. Even the least plausible ones.

He wondered which the beast was going to pick.

**_“Such terror…”_ ** it laughed at him. **_“The nightmare… has yet to start… and already… such sweet fear…”_ **

“Don’t hold this against me. Don—”

He blinked. Frowned. He… felt like he was forgetting something important. What had he been doing…?  
  
“Claude?”

He shook his head. “Sorry Teach, spaced out a bit.”

They nodded, returning to their lesson. “Today we’ll be talking about Almyra.”

That was odd. But then again, Teach was an odd teacher. He doubted Hanneman or Manuela bothered to teach anything about the countries outside of Fódlan. If he was lucky, Hilda wouldn’t make too many sniping comments about Almyrans.

“My father received news that Almyra’s old king died. So it seems a relevant topic.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Really? How reliable is this?” he asked. “Not like there’s any communication between Fódlan and Almyra.”

“The new king contacted my father. Hm… King Taqi, I believe?”

His blood went cold. _Taqi._ He couldn’t dismiss it now. This was bad.

“Why would an Almyran king contact you, professor?”

“Simple. He’s trying to cut away loose ends.”

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 

“The only remaining heir to the Almyran throne ran away to Fódlan. I’ve been informed he has green eyes…” Teach stepped towards him, “a single braid…” they came closer, “posing as Leicester nobility.” They stopped in front of him, looming above him as an impossibly tall figure. “I’ve been promised more money than I can imagine for his head, Claude. What can you offer me?”

“Me? What do I have to do with this?” He chuckled, his mask flawless as he began running through potential escape routes. “Besides, I know you’re not swayed by money, Teach.”

They shrugged. “I’m not. But they are.”

He followed their gesture. Standing in the classroom doorway were two Almyran palace guards. _No._ “Hey, uh, who let those guys into the monastery?”

“They are here to remove a foreign invader,” a voice whispered in his ear. “Because no matter where you go, that’s what you are, aren’t you? _Half-breed mutt._ It’s been a while, _Prince_ Khalid.”

“Taqi,” he slowly said, swallowing around past the knife at his neck. “We can talk this out. No need to be rash.”

“That’s _King Taqi_ to you now.”

“King Taqi,” he corrected himself. “Congratulations on the throne.” He didn’t dare to say more. Not with the knife digging into his throat. His eyes darted to his classmates. Surprise, horror, and disgust played across everyone.

No one moved to help him. Not him. Not the liar prince of an enemy nation. He expected it, but it still stung. 

They clapped manacles around his wrists. Bad, but better than immediate death. They clapped chains around his ankles. Worse, but better than immediate death. A tight, cold, metal collar was squeezed around his neck. Very, very bad, but still better than immediate death.

They threw him in a frigid cell. He could hardly move with the heavy chains weighing him down. Taqi wasn’t taking any chances it seemed. But this wasn’t over for him. So long as he was alive, he had a shot.

His cell door swung open and in walked Taqi. Even if he wanted, he wouldn’t have been able to dart through the door. He was too well chained up. Behind Taqi walked in Hilda. He looked between the two of them. A Goneril and an Almyran King. The two should be duking it out. For what it was worth, he was glad that they weren’t fighting. Taqi was vicious. He didn’t want Hilda to go up against him, because he doubted she could win. Even though her indifference to his capture stung, he didn’t hate her. 

_But he was so bitterly disappointed. Not in her, but in himself. He knew better. No one ever stuck up for him. What a fool he’d been to think that_ maybe _he had a genuine friend for once in his life._

“This is a good look for you, whoreson.” Taqi yanked on a chain, slamming his chin into the ground.

“What do you want?” he grit past the tight chains around his throat.

Taqi shrugged. “To gloat, really. Don’t worry, I’ll be taking you home with me. Your whore of a mother would have been an equal prize, but she went and committed treason, so,” he smirked, raising his hands, “not much I could do to stop her execution.”

Taqi yanked his chain up, gagging him and forcing him to look his half-brother in the eyes. “Funny story! See, she was given the choice to kill father or to die herself. She chose the selfish option and killed father to save her own cowardly hide. We killed her anyway.” His smirk fell away. “I’m not lying about this, Khalid. I hated that bitch, sure. But even I was blindsided by her depravity.”

He grit his teeth and held his tongue. Mom wouldn’t do that. She _wouldn’t._

_His parents were both dead._

He couldn’t focus on that right now (even though the grief wanted to consume him). _Survival. Survival first. Can’t do anything if you’re dead Khalid, you must survive._ His eyes flickered to Hilda, who looked distinctly bored. A tiny flicker of hope burst into his chest. _Surely_ Hilda wouldn’t abandon him despite his secret. She was here now, so that meant something, didn’t it? Perhaps she was playing Taqi, planning to break him out.

“Eyes back on me, milksop.” Taqi tightened the chains around his throat. He gagged, struggling to breathe. “This brings me back… remember when we used to waterboard you in the gardens? The servants loved the entertainment. Or when Fareed would poison your meals? Wait, no, we all did that actually. Aww, poor baby Khalid’s crying again.”

He couldn’t reply. He could only struggle for air as tears streamed down his face.

The chain let up and he sucked in air. “He really is pathetic, don’t you agree Goneril?”

Hilda huffed. “Oh yeah. Can we finish this up already? You’re supposed to take the liar and leave Fódlan.”

“Heh. I will. Are you that eager to go to battle? A Goneril through and through.”

“Ugh, no! I just hate him.” Hilda turned to sneer down at him. “You. You really fucked everything up, you know that, right? We’re at _war_ because of you, _asshole.”_

He coughed. “Wh-what? War?”

Taqi laughed. “Right, I didn’t tell you yet. See, Fódlan isn't very happy to hear that an _Almyran prince_ was traipsing around stealing their secrets, planning to open the gates to Almyra. Furious, really. And, see, Almyra is very insulted that Fódlan kidnapped a prince — even a hated one — for over a year. ‘Those cowards, mocking our warrior spirit. This insult cannot stand!’ And thus, King Taqi shall cut a swathe through Fódlan and be remembered for generations to come. Rather neat and tidy, hm?”

He grit his teeth. “No, the people won’t care about me,” he half declared, half pleaded. “I’m not a good enough reason! You can’t do this!” He needed to get free. He needed to escape. He had to fix this. He couldn’t let his fatherland and motherland go to war. He could fix this. He _had_ to.

“Father was well loved, and you _are_ still his son. It’s more than enough, especially with how Fódlan mutilated you.”

He needed to stay silent, but the question fell from his lips anyways. “Mutilated…?”

Taqi split into a wide grin. “Why yes! They cut off Prince Khalid’s hands. Both of them. Insulting, no?”

“No…” He eyed the gleaming axe at Taqi’s hip. “Don’t do this. Come now, this is excessive.” 

That axe was brandished. “You’ve always been a slippery snake. Do you know how many times I tried to kill you growing up? I lost count. I’m making up for all those times you humiliated me.” Taqi yanked on the chains, forcing his arms out. “I’m going to make you useless. Helpless.”

“Stop! I can be useful to you! Don’t do this!”

Taqi’s sadistic eyes glimmered. The axe swung and came down and he screamed. Taqi pressed a hot plate to his stump, cauterizing it. Just an inch below the elbow.

He gasped on the floor, eyes fixed on his detached bleeding arm. He needed that. His eyes rose, waiting for the next strike.

“Hilda…?” he whispered.

“You’re a selfish bastard, Claude.” She twirled the axe in her hands. “It’s _your_ fault that everyone’s gonna die. Did you really think I could ever be friends with such an arrogant narcissist as you? I hope your death is slow and painful.”

She swung. _Please be lying,_ he wanted to cry. She didn’t strike his chains to free him like he prayed. She struck true. He screamed and writhed as she pressed the hot plate to his other stump, cauterizing that one too. 

“You’ve got 5 minutes to say goodbye, baby brother!” Taqi declared, walking off.

His classmates all stood above him, eyes dark and enraged. They were dressed for war.

“I didn’t want this!” he shouted. “I wanted peace, not war! I just wanted everyone to get along! I just wanted people to understand each other!” He just wanted for people to stop hating each other. He just wanted people to understand that it didn’t need to be the way it was. 

“We’re all going to die because of you,” Marianne murmured. “All of us.”

“All because of your stupid pipedream!” Leonie shouted. “What are you, a five year old?! You’re too smart to be this damned naive! The world doesn’t work that way!”

Raphael shook his head. “You should have known better.”

“I wanted to build a world where people didn’t need to suffer like I did,” he whispered. The tantalizing image of a village where everyone was welcome, regardless of background, shimmered behind his tears.

“Bullshit! Don’t pretend like you’re doing this for anything other than selfishness!” Lysithea spat on his face. “You make me sick, mongrel.”

“I’m not sure what is more foolish — the fact that you thought no one would figure you out, or that you thought there would be no consequences,” Lorenz sneered.

“Haven’t you lied enough?” Ignatz said. “Stop pretending you did this for pure reasons. You really thought Almyra and Fódlan could get along? Look at your parents — your mother went and killed your father!”

“They loved each other,” he denied, shaking his head. “Taqi was lying, he had to be lying.”

“He didn’t lie,” Cyril said. “It’s true. The queen killed the king. Lady Rhea has to kill me now, you know. Because I’m Almyran. I had a good life until you went and ruined it. First your father got my parents killed, and now you’re getting everyone else killed.”

“I can fix it,” he pleaded through tears. “Please, I can fix this somehow, I can do something. Free me and I’ll fix this. I’ll stop this war.”

“Too late for that,” Hilda’s voice echoed. “Almyra has already breached the throat. We have too. It’s the most deadly war in history and it’s only getting worse. And it’s all your fault.” Hilda landed a sharp kick to his side. “Look up you coward! Look!”

He looked up and saw he was alone with Hilda.

“Everyone else is already dead!”

“I just wanted somewhere to belong,” he whispered. “I just wanted somewhere I didn’t need to hide or be afraid. I just wanted to be accepted for who I am. I just wanted to not be hated for being born.” That was all he ever wanted. He wanted it for other people too, but he wanted it most of all for himself. “I just wanted somewhere to belong.”

“Oh Claude. Khalid.” Hilda leaned down, whispering in his ear. “You’ll always be hated no matter where you go. You know this. You weren’t supposed to be born.”

“Please,” he begged. He _believed_ that his two peoples could coexist. He _believed_ that it was just ignorance that kept them apart. “Please don’t do this.” His belief couldn’t be wrong. If his belief was wrong… 

“That’s right. You’re wrong, Khalid. No one will ever accept you for who you are. Let go of your naive hope.”

“No!” He shouted, trying to grab her. His useless stumps flailed. Hilda was gone. He was alone. “No! I’m not unlovable! It’s not true!”

He sobbed, straining against his chains. He needed to get free. If he could get free, he could fix this. He could prove he wasn’t wrong. He could prove that people like him deserved to belong.

The chains were too tight. He had no _hands._ His cell door was too strong, his stone walls too thick. Even if he got free, what could he do? Everyone was already dead or dying. War wouldn’t allow this generation (or any…) to coexist. 

He screamed, throwing himself against his chains. He bashed his stumps against the cell door. He kicked with what little mobility he had.

He fell into a heap on the floor. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want war. He loved both of his homes, even if both hated him wholly and completely. And because of him, they were both in ruin.

The torchlight from outside his cell faded. His cell grew dark. It grew cold. Endless time passed in despair. He cried. He screamed. He cried more. He sat. He sat and sat and sat. He was going to lose his mind to the inky blackness and the dark despair.

He was so lonely. But that was nothing new.

He came back to the present as footsteps echoed. He wondered if Taqi was coming to kill him. He wondered if Taqi survived. He hated his half-brother, but he never wanted him to die. It would be easier if he did. He wasn’t sure he even hated his childhood tormenter, really. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to hate anyone.

He wished he did. Hate would be easier than this. He wished he could hate everyone for abandoning him, but he understood. ~~He didn’t understand why he was hated.~~ He understood.

His door clanged open. It was just as dark outside his cell as inside. A faint red glow floated into his cell. 

“Teach…!” he rasped. _Teach._ Teach would help him. Teach wouldn’t hurt him. Teach would free him. And somehow, Teach would help him fix everything. If anyone could do it, it was them. “Teach, please…”

Silence. The glow of their sword shifted. It extended. It came to rest under his throat. 

“Teach…?”

They were going to cut the chain on his throat. That was all. Teach wouldn’t kill him. Not Teach. 

“T-Teach, please…” _Please_ let them be trying to cut the chain. The sword wrapped around his throat, biting past skin. _Please. Please! He lost everything else! All he has left is his life! Please Teach, please, don’t do this, d_  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


…

… 

… 

Oh.

He didn’t die.

… 

… 

Right?

He can’t seem to stop crying.

… 

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t. No war. No death.

His hands violently shook as he brought them up to his face. 

He still had hands. That was good.

“Wow, he’s still crying…” Hilda's voice drifted over to him.

He flinched. “S…so. S-some nightmare…” he croaked.

“Ah, he speaks! Finally!” Lysithea snapped. “About time. You’ve been out of it.”

“W-well, forgive me for n-not reacting well to my worst nightmare.”

“Fair enough. _So.”_ Hilda’s voice lowered an octave. “Almyran prince, is that right?”

“Not all of that was accurate…” he weakly defended himself. 

“Your brother seems like a real piece of work,” Leonie said. “You grew up with that guy? No wonder you’ve got trust problems.”

“Can’t blame his brother for the rest of it though,” Hilda muttered.

“Come on guys, he’s got good intentions,” Raphael said.

Lorenz scoffed. “Intentions that could easily plunge us into war. Nightmare or no, that worse-case scenario is very possible.”

“You can’t tell the roundtable,” he bordered on pleading. “Don’t forget, I’ve got dirt on all of you now too, through these nightmares. Spill my secrets and I’ll spill yours.”

“Hah! Oh yes, because my fear of you acting out of greed and crowning yourself king is comparable to what we learned about _you.”_

He grit his teeth. “Then think about the people. None of us want war.”

Hilda heaved a long sigh. “This is so dumb. None of us are going to rat you out, so calm down.”

His treacherous heart dared to believe her. He looked over to her voice. There was no pink cord, no pink body. His eyes widened. “The beast, it’s gone!”

“Sh-should, um, should we tell him…?” Marianne whispered. “I feel bad…”

He tensed. “What does that mean.” He twisted to look at her despite the darkness. He didn’t see pale blue, but he saw something. Green and gold. He looked down at his hands, lit up in the dark. He traced the cord still attached to him and found the red-eyed beast, eyes half-shut. No one else was still attached.

“How did you guys get free? A little help here?” He chuckled nervously.

“Yeeeah… see, we’re going to leave you here,” Leonie admitted. “Nothing personal… er, kinda. You are a real dick.”

“And a foreign prince,” Ignatz continued. “Sorry Claude. It’s for the good of the alliance. Sorry…”

“No, no no no, hold on! Guys, c’mon! I’m not a bad guy! Has our year together meant nothing to any of you?”

There was a beat of oppressive silence. “Er… you realize none of us know anything about you, right?” Raphael said. “I feel bad, yeah, but it’s not like we’re close. Or even friends.”

“That’s what happens when you hold people at arm's length,” Lysithea muttered. “Why would any of us have a reason to free you? You’re annoying at best, actively sabotaging us at worst with those pranks of yours.”

“A-and you’re really nosy…” Marianne whispered.

He knew they weren’t really his friends (even if he wanted to have friends), but he thought they were at _least_ comrades in arms! “Lorenz, what about the time I saved your life on the battlefield? Or Ignatz, how about when I carried you on my back to a healer when you broke your leg? Leonie, you said you respected me! Raph, buddy, you can’t just leave me behind!”

“Will you shut up already?” Cyril snapped. “You’re nothing but a lying cheat! My parents are dead because of your father! I was conscripted as a soldier in your father’s stupid war!”

“I… I know Cyril, I’m sorry.” He wilted. “I didn’t know anything about that. I was just a kid at the time. But maybe I can prevent it from happening to other kids. If you help me out, I _promise_ I’ll do everything I can.” And he really meant that. When he returned home, he was going to have a long talk with his father. It was hard to reconcile the tough-but-kind man that he knew with the picture that Cyril painted. 

“You really are desperate,” Hilda chuckled. “Sorry, but you’re not going free. Wait, actually, I’m not sorry. You’re an _Almyran!_ You haven’t even renounced your home like Cyril!”

Was Almyra even his home? He didn’t have a home, not really. If he had to pick anywhere, he would have said at Garreg Mach, with the Golden Deer. “I see how you feel,” he said weakly. “I understand if you hate me. But there are still reasons to free me. Look, I’m willing to _pay_ you all. You like money, right Leonie? Or Lorenz, how about some favors in court?” _Survival comes first, Khalid. You cannot do anything if you cannot survive._ “I’m at your mercy here. I’ve got the combined wealth of Riegan and Almyra.” Not… technically, but he could pull a lot of strings.

“Goddess you’re pathetic. Begging? Really? No bribe in the world is big enough for me to consider helping you.”

“If my parents hear that I’ve gone missing, they might suspect foul play and attack Leicester!” he was desperate at this point. His parents _wouldn’t_ do that, because if he died it was on him. No one would come for him.

Cyril scoffed. “Nope, that’s a lie. Nice try.”

“I’d say it was nice knowing you, but, it really wasn’t.”

“Wait!” he shouted as he heard footsteps walking away. “Wait! Don’t leave me! Come back!”

_Silence._

He stared into the darkness. He slumped to the ground. They left him. _They left him._

He buried his head in his hands, pulling his knees up to his chest. Of course they abandoned him. He should have seen that one coming. He hated that it hurt. He should have seen it coming. Of course they wouldn’t accept him. No one ever had.

No one ever would.

He couldn’t dwell on it. It _hurt,_ but he was used to that kind of hurt. It was on him for opening himself up to it. He needed to figure out how to escape. The others did it. He groped the ground for his dropped knife, but he couldn’t find it.

Anything to escape the suffocating loneliness that he knew was permanent. Survival was always a good distraction.

Laughter rumbled through his bones. He froze. Half-lidded glowing eyes all focused on him. **_“No escape… Not for… you… Your fear… your despair… shall feed me… for centuries…”_** He tugged on the cord, once again useless. _Centuries?!_ **_“Correct… Through This One… you shall live… far longer… than mere mortal… All so This One… may feed… upon your endless nightmares…”_**

The creature’s tongue extended. It curled around his waist, trapping his arms in place. Despite how slimy the appendage was, it clung to him. He couldn’t slip away from it. Worse, the saliva was dripping off of the thing in buckets, slowly but surely drenching him in the glue-like substance. 

His struggle grew weaker and weaker as he was coated in the endless fluid. He couldn’t wipe this away. Not when it glowed green and gold. Not when he felt it. Not as it became a part of him, trapping him. The tongue rose and coiled around his throat, caressing him with more of the substance.

**_“You will survive, Khalid… but is the price… worth it…?”_ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Claude screamed and thrashed. His scream echoed around him in other voices. He clawed at the cord attached to his face, desperation fueling him.

He was alone. But there were screams.

He cast out his gaze and saw a rainbow in the darkness.

“It wasn’t real!” he shouted, relieved laughter cascading from his lungs. Or maybe it was a sob. He was crying. “Everyone! Calm down!”

The screaming stopped, though sobs still echoed. 

“Claude, what the fuck,” Hilda choked out between sobs. 

He flinched, then tensed. He already went through being abandoned twice. He could handle a third time. ~~He didn’t know if he could take it a third time.~~

Yellow and orange stood and drew closer. Raphael knelt down beside him and engulfed him in a hug, crying into his hair. “I’m not going to abandon you buddy!” the big man all but sobbed into him. “Don’t listen to the nightmare! It’s not true.”

Fiery orange and cobalt joined him and Raphael. “Claude you idiot,” Leonie gasped, “I wish you would’ve said something. You _are_ our friend, we won’t leave you.” 

Lavender and pink collapsed into what was becoming a dog-pile. “You are annoying and insufferable, but I don’t hate you! Idiot. I’m pissed that you think we’d do that, but I don’t hate you!”

Pale blue and grey surprised him, having not heard Marianne approach. “I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she whispered. “I thought I was the only lonely one.”

Lime and lapis joined too, Ignatz shaking but solid around him. “No one’s getting left behind. You’re one of us.”

Purple and rose surprised him. “Dear Goddess, your imagination is a terrifying place. Unrealistic too. Mind you, we need to have a very long chat when this is all over, but I won’t expose you. None of us will.”

Pale green and bronze joined with a hysterical laugh. “I can’t believe I complained about the king to the _prince._ This really explains a lot about ya. I told ya, I don’t hate the king. I get upset, but I don’t hate ya.”

Pastel pink and ruby surged forwards, pushing herself deep into the pile. “Claaaaude!” Hilda wailed, “I don’t _care_ who you are, I’d never do stuff like that! You’re one of my best friends!”

Claude shook as he wrapped his arms around as many of his friends as he could manage. “If this is the start of another nightmare, I don’t think I’ll make it,” he admitted. He shook, his bones feeling like they were humming. 

“No wonder you’re so cagey about your past,” Leonie chuckled. “I don’t blame you. You can trust me to keep your secret. The rest of you guys better agree with me!”

“Obviously,” Lysithea drawled, still sniffling. 

“I think your dream is noble,” Ignatz whispered. “A world where cultures mix freely without judgment… I want to see that world.” Ignatz gripped his shoulder, the glow of his featureless face pointed straight at Claude. “It’s not just a pipedream. If anyone can do it, it’s you. I don’t know how much I can help, but I’m with you.”

“M-me too…” Marianne whispered. “Me too! I want that too, Claude. I doubt I’ll be much help…”

His jaw dropped. The shaking in his bones grew.

“Yeah!” Raphael shouted. “If you don’t got a place you feel at home, we’ll make you one! A place where everyone’s welcome! Like a big ol’ happy inn for everyone, with lots of comfort food and friendly smiles! We’re with you Claude!”

It was too good to be true. Where was the catch? Where was the nightmare?

Lorenz chortled with a touch of hysteria. “To think, all this time, your big secret is that you’re soft! Ah, that and the prince business.”

“I’m not soft,” he muttered, unable to feel angry. He blamed his continued tears on the nightmare.

“You are,” Cyril said, “but I don’t think that makes you weak. It means you care. That’s important for people in charge.”

“Welp,” he choked, unable to steady his voice, “thanks for not wanting to kill me.”

“Never,” Hilda promised. “This whole Almyran thing is a big shock, but you’re still Claude.” She paused. “Er, that is your name, right? Or, is it… ‘Khalid’?”

He flinched at hearing his name. “Both are my name. Both are me.”

Lysithea hummed. “Just like how you’re both Almyran and both Fódlandi… right?”

He choked a laugh. “Yeah. Gods, this is so much. I thought… well, you all know what I thought. I feel like I’m humming with relief!”

“Me too!” Raphael agreed.

“U-um, actually, I don’t think it’s relief…?” Marianne stuttered. “I, um, I don’t think this shaking is natural.”

His body was jittering. Marianne’s words were like a bucket of ice. He wasn’t shaking from relief. _His bones were humming._

He turned his head. The cords attaching them to the creature were all mushed together, melted into one big rainbow mess. He reached out and touched where they connected. He wasn’t the only person to yelp. They _all_ yelped. He reached lower to tap against his cheek at the section that was still only his green and gold.

“Ah! I felt that!” Hilda gasped. 

He watched as Lysithea reached up and touched her own cord. He flinched at the muted feeling.

“Look at the beast,” Ignatz whispered.

Those giant red eyes were mostly shut. Claude shuddered at the memory of his second nightmare. But there was a key difference: most of the red was gone. Vivid blue, bluer than the sky itself, overtook all but the outer edge of the eyes.

The humming increased. He lost the ability to focus his eyes as he and the others went helplessly limp against each other with the strength of the buzzing.

**_“Fear… Distress… Despair… so very good… but even better… is the joy… relief… and catharsis… after the nightmare is soothed… Thank you all… for sharing… your understandings… The tether This One has crafted… can be washed away… with soothing hot water… But the tether you together have crafted… shall last a lifetime…”_ **

The humming reduced some. Then, with the suddenness of an axe to the face, it all stopped. Out from the beast’s maw dropped the knotted bundle of the ends of their saliva-cords onto the ground — prompting them all to flinch as they _felt_ it hit the ground. With one last rumble, the beast closed its eyes. He could barely make out its silhouette as it settled below the earth before vanishing completely.

“So is it just me, or did that thing say that all we have to do to get rid of these things is take a bubble bath together. You all heard that too, right?”

There was a _crack_ behind them. Engraved in sky-blue was the outline of a door. _Escape._

There was much they all needed to discuss. Not only with himself. Marianne needed some sort of support that would prove she wasn't cursed. Raphael and Leonie would do well with a visit home. He needed to have a chit-chat with Lorenz on _so bad,_ but especially the resentment and fear the noble carried about him (and to reassure Lorenz that _no,_ just because he technically was a prince, that didn't mean the insane nightmare held a hint of truth about him trying to become 'King of Leicester'. _35% grain tax, he was never letting Lorenz live that down.)_ He needed to have chat with Cyril (and especially ensure the kid didn't tell anything to Rhea). Hilda was going to be a mess to sort out her Almyran bias, because even though right _now_ she was fine, nearly two decades of ingrained racial bias doesn't vanish instantly. Her and Ignatz could use some reaffirmation about their art too. And _hell_ he had so much he needed to look into with Lysithea's situation.

But they were all in it together. Magically gooped to each other or not, they weren't going to abandon him. That would take a long time to sink in, and he wasn't sure the light feeling that came with it would ever fade. They weren't going to abandon him, and he wasn't going to abandon any of them. All that extra talk could wait. For now…

“So,” Claude pointed to the bundle of melded cords still attached to them all. “Which one of us wants to carry that? Because dragging it behind us…”

All of them shuddered like he dragged his nails against a chalkboard. Himself included. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate optional end for people that hate happy endings:
> 
> 75 years later, King Khalid of Almyra rests with his beloved. He’s proud of all he was achieved, all with the help of his friends. Fódlan and Almyra were open to one another, their cultures slowly but surely mixing for the better.
> 
> He has no regrets as he dies peacefully in his sleep.
> 
> He wakes up in darkness to red eyes, green and gold glow, encased in a cocoon of fluid. He can’t even open his mouth to scream. His reality crashes down on him. Despair. Terror. Through it all, he hates how efficient the beast is. The beast won.
> 
> “Let’s try… another go… And another… and another…” 
> 
> He only has time to wonder how many times this has happened. Laughter fills his mind as he’s thrust again into another lifetime to struggle with all his heart for his pointless dream.
> 
> What a pointless dream.
> 
> He wakes up in his bed at Garreg Mach, feeling like he is forgetting something. He blinks, shakes his head, and he begins his day. Must not be important.
> 
> The 'order' of nightmare magnitude isn't fully fixed. It's supposed to be roughly in order of least bad to worst, but it's hard to quantify that kind of thing. Part of the reason why Claude's came after Lysithea's, which potentially was worse, was somewhat due to how thoroughly he overthinks things and how he lives his life in constant paranoia. Both Marianne and Lysithea are much more resigned to their eventual death than Claude.  
> Also sorry to Raph, Leonie, and Cyril that they only got a paragraph nightmare. Or maybe not sorry?


End file.
